"Dusk."
"I'm in."
I drop my hands and smile, turning towards her. "My friend Allison is coming."
She nods, a sad smile on her lips. "I figured."
"We'll pick you up at nine?"
"Sounds good." She perks up.
I swallow down my pride, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "Hey, I'm sorry for how I snapped."
"Girl, don't worry about it. You've been through so much lately. I don't think I'd even be back at work yet."
Turning back to my computer, I ignore it, smoothly dancing my fingers over my phone’s keyboard before hitting send on a text I know I probably shouldn't send.
Going out on the town tonight.
I watch the thread, hoping it's enough to coax him to reply, but he doesn't.
Tossing my phone onto the desk, I decide to bury myself with work until it's time to drink all the shit away that's spiralling through my brain.
Even if it's a shit plan, it's the best I've got.
The loud, steady thump of bass vibrates through my body, my third drink sweats in my hand, and the scent of stale cigarettes, sweaty bodies, and musky carpets curls through the air.
Dusk is packed, but we watch people swarm on the dance floor from the VIP area that overlooks it.
Allison went all out, no doubt to ensure I felt less overwhelmed by the crowd.
Little does she know this is just what I needed to silence the shit in my head.
I miss Koen.
It was hard to admit to myself, let alone him. It's a fact that's slowly changing my DNA.
He's a killer.
He's a ghost.
He stalked, tormented, and kidnapped me.
All of those facts are valid enough reasons to hate the man. Yet, there's a yearning in my chest that aches.
Stockholm Syndrome. That has to be what this is.
I closed myself off for so long that the way he touched me, the way my body responded to him, was all a product of my self-isolation.
It has to be.
I have to rewire my thinking.
"You could text him," Allison says. "You said he's reached out, right?"
She was receptive and supportive when she and I spoke at dinner the other night about Koen, but there’s still judgment in her eyes that keeps me holding my cards close to the chest.
"He doesn't reply."
